Chasing the Monday morning Coffee Train in the Endless Staircase

Chasing the Monday morning Coffee Train in the Endless Staircase

I woke up late for work, sprinted down the hallway of my apartment building, and realized the stairs kept going past the 10th floor. When I finally reached the lobby, the door was a glass storefront that looked exactly like the coffee shop on Main Street. I pushed it open and the barista greeted me by name, but she was also my old high‑school math teacher, wearing the same cardigan she always wore in class. I tried to order a latte, but the menu listed only "Monday morning" and "Friday night" as options. I pointed to the "Monday morning" and she handed me a stack of worksheets instead of a cup. I flipped through them, and each page was a schedule for a train I was supposed to catch that day—except the train never left the station. I felt that familiar panic of being stuck, then the barista‑teacher smiled and said, "You'll get there when you’re ready," and I woke up just as the coffee machine in my kitchen started buzzing.